Spooktober is almost here

October is less than a week away and I'll once again being doing spooky- and Halloween-themed posts throughout the month. I got myself organized in advance so that I don't have to fly by the seat of my pants (or the seat of my broomstick) this time around. The above teaser image show many of the items I'll be writing about.

This Spooktober (or Mild Fear 2025, or the latest installment of what I called Halloween Countdown way back in 2011) will be heavy on books, which is of course quite appropriate for Papergreat. So be sure to check back throughout October for lots of fun stuff that might be spooky, but isn't nearly as scary as the real world these days.

Saboteur (1942, Alfred Hitchcock)

(Apologies to Norman Lloyd)

(P.S.: Spice is 110% fine. She's standing on a shelf.)

Book cover: "The Footsteps at the Lock"

Here's a reissue of an old detective novel on this surreal day in Arizona.¹

• Title: The Footsteps at the Lock 
• Author: Ronald Arbuthnott Knox (1888-1957). He was an Anglican priest in the Church of England, who later resigned from that post to convert to Catholicism — an event that created a lot of buzz. On the side, he wrote detective novels, as one does.
• Cover design: Paul E. Kennedy
• Publisher: Dover Publications, New York
• Publication note on copyright page: "This Dover edition, first published in 1983, is an unabridged republication of the work as originally published by Methuen &  Co. Ltd., London, 1928. (The map that originally appeared on the endpapers has been placed after the dedication.)" That map appears at the bottom of this post, too.
• Series: This is one of five novels by Knox that feature insurance investigator Miles Bredon.
• Dedication: To David in memory of the Uncas
• Pages: 248
• Format: Paperback
• Price: $6.95
• Back cover excerpt: "Monsignor Knox is well known in mystery circles as one of the fathers of Holmesian scholarship. This lighthearted narrative reveals him as not only a scholar of the mystery genre but an able practitioner as well."
• First sentence: "It is an undeniable but mystifying fact of natural ethics that a man has the right to dispose of his own property at death."
• Random excerpt from middle #1: "One very old gentleman had to be convinced, with great difficulty, that iw as the hare, not the hounds, which worked by electricity; he was positive of the contrary — it was notorious."²
• Random excerpt from middle #2: "You do not shock the refined ears of a lady who dates from the Crimea by describing too faithfully the habits of a young ne'er-do-weel."
• Random excerpt from middle #3: "Millington Bridge is not among those one-way-traffic concerns in which our thrifty forefathers delighted; there is room to pass a lorry on it; but, by a kind of false analogy, it was a sharp angle over each of its jutting piers in which the pedestrian may take refuge from the dangers and the mud-splashings of the road."
• Rating on Goodreads: 3.66 stars (out of 5)
• Goodreads review excerpt: In 2012, Abbey wrote: "Layers within layers, puzzles tied to other puzzles, abound in this finely crafted, albeit slow and extremely old-fashioned tale. ... I’d always wanted to see what Knox’s writing was like, and now I have. While I enjoyed this one I won’t go far out of my way to read more of his books, as the excellent initial premise, the convoluted plotting and good pacing eventually became overwhelmed by the formulaic nature of the 'thrills'."
• Rating on Amazon: 4 stars (out of 5)
• Amazon review excerpt: In 2015, Bracton wrote: "Close attention to the map at the beginning of the book is helpful (I made a rough schematic to keep next to me as I read). Of course, the real entertainment value of the story is in the puzzle and seeing how Bredon and Leyland sort it out. And the writing is beyond superb. Not only are there evocative descriptions of the upper Thames and surrounding countryside, but there are marvelous turns of phrase: in referring to a character's addiction to morphine, a doctor says 'When I saw him, he'd obviously more or less reached the line of perpetual snow.' But it's not all plot and clever writing; there's a very insightful (but not intrusive) discussion between two of the characters on a question of ethics. This is simply a very good book, and when you've read it, you'll be looking for Father Knox's other mystery novels."

Footnotes 

1. Taking place today in the Phoenix metroplex, mere miles apart: (a) the president and most of the U.S. presidential line of succession are attending a memorial service at State Farm Stadium in Glendale; (b) Ashar is working as a volunteer at the Gathering of the Ghouls fan convention at Rawhide Event Center in Chandler; and (c) and the Phillies are playing the Diamondbacks at Chase Field in Phoenix. 

2. According to Wikipedia, the transition from using live hares to mechanical lures in British greyhound racing occurred in 1926, which was two years before this book was first published.

A bit about spoons & alchymy from Alice Morse Earle

Customs and Fashions of Old New England was first published in 1893 and written by Alice Morse Earle (1851-1911), who was previously featured on Papergreat 13 years ago, in a post about her book Home Life in Colonial Days.

My copy of Customs and Fashions of Old New England is the 1909 reissue by Charles Scribner's Sons. It was once the property of Laura E. Bayless, per the cursive signature on the first page. That's possibly this Laura E. Bayless, but there's little way to know for sure. 

I've had a bookmark sticking out of this book for years, because I keep meaning to share this passage about spoons. So, without further ado, here it is:

"The greater number number of spoons owned by colonists were of pewter or of alchymy — or alcamyne, ocamy, ocany, orkanie, alcamy, or occonie — a metal composed of pan-brass and arsenicum. The reference in inventories, enrolments, and wills, to spoons of these materials are so frequent, so ever-present, as to make citation superfluous. An evil reputation of poisonous unhealthfulness hung around the vari-spelled alchymy (perhaps it is only a gross libel of succeeding generations); but, harmful of harmless, alchymy, no matter how spelt, disappears from use before Revolutionary times. Wooden spoons also are named. Silver spoons were not very plentiful. John Oxenbridge bequeathed thirteen spoons in 1673, and 'one sweetmeat spoon,' and '1 childs spoon which was mine in my infancy.' Other pap-spoons, and candle-spoons are named in wills; marrow-spoons, also, long and slender of bowl. The value of a dozen silver spoons was given in 1869 as £5 13s. 6d. In succeeding years each genteel family owned silver spoons, frequently in large number; while one Boston physician, Dr. Cutter, had, 1761, half a dozen gold teaspoons."

There’s a surprising amount packed into that little passage for spoon historians, etymologists, early American social historians, food historians and even archaeometallurgists to chew on. And it’s just one paragraph out of a 387-page treasure trove that we can thank Alice Morse Earle for compiling. If you ever come across a copy of Customs and Fashions of Old New England in your favorite used books store, I highly recommend it. (The full text of the book is also available via Project Gutenberg.)

1935 postcard from Angelo Frank Buffone to his brother Dominic

While I try to encourage Big Boi to eat following his surgery yesterday to remove his broken canine teeth (his life as a feral tomcat was a rough one), here's a postcard featuring a different "Big boy."

It's not often that you can positively identify both the sender and recipient on a 90-year-old postcard, but it worked out on this one. 

It was sent by Angelo Frank Buffone (October 9, 1912 — March 5, 2000) to his younger brother Dominic Buffone (1915 or 1916 — June 28, 2009). Coincidentally, the card is postmarked on the night of October 9, 1935, which was Frank's 23rd birthday. That could explain his playfully jabbing tone toward his younger brother.

The cursive message states:

Hay Big boy 

why in the hell didn't you write to us we are all wonder [?] what is the matter with you. I here you and Morella [?] are coming home Saturday. If you are I'll coming out there Friday night about 8 or 9 o'clock to take you in. So wait for me Friday night. 

Be Good Dick.

Frank Buffone. Worc., Mass.

The Buffone family was a big one. According to Dominic's 2009 obituary, there were 13 siblings in all. Both Frank and Dominic served for the United States in World War II, and I have to believe some of their other brothers did, too. Dominic took part in the Battle of Midway and lived in Worcester all of his life. Frank moved to Oceanside, California, (where I was born) around 1980, according to his obituary in the March 8, 2000, edition of the North County Times of Oceanside.

That obituary states that Frank "was a plumber with Plumbers Union Local 4 in Worcester before retiring and served as a supply staff segreant in the U.S. Army Air Corps during World War II. He served in the National Guard for 15 years."

Given the size of the Buffone family, I bet there's a fair chance someone out there will stumble upon this post during a Google search and can share some more information. And I'd be happy to get the postcard back into the family's hands if a relative of Frank or Dominic would like to have it.

RIP, Charles Robert Redford Jr.

Robert Redford, an iconic American actor and Oscar-winning director, died in his sleep at age 89 today in Sundance, Utah, the location of the Sundance Institute, which he founded in 1981 to support emerging and aspiring independent filmmakers. 

Ethan Hawke wrote on Instagram: “Robert Redford, our ultimate champion of independent film, relentless advocate for authentic storytelling and fiercely passionate environmentalist. Robert’s legacy remains ingrained in our culture, transformed by his artistry, activism and the founding of Sundance Institute and Film Festival.”

It's hard to pick and choose from among all the incredible films Redford was involved with, but if I had to program a two-week memorial film festival that admittedly involves a lot of my personal favorites, it would look something like this:

WEEK 1

• Festival opener: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
• The Hot Rock (1972)
• The Sting (1973)
• Three Days of the Condor (1975)
• All the President's Men (1976)
• (This is chronological, but it's the viewing order I'd put them in even if it weren't. It takes us from his superstar emergence to a series of 1970s films that transition from fun to serious, while being thrilling all the while.)

WEEK 2

• Ordinary People (1980, director only, for which he won the Oscar)
• The Natural (1984)
• Sneakers (1992)
• The Horse Whisperer (1998, director and star)
• Finale: All Is Lost (2013)
• Coda: "Nothing in the Dark," 1962 episode of "The Twilight Zone" (pictured at top)

I'm sure there will be protests that I should have included The Way We Were, Jeremiah Johnson or his directing efforts Quiz Show and A River Runs Through It. Or perhaps something else. Let me know in the comments! 

Saturday's postcard: This summer camp skunk is gr-r-reat

I love this 1968 fill-in-the-boxes summer camp postcard from Kellogg Company. Sure, it's just advertising and wiring kids to eat Tony the Tiger's Frosted Flakes. But in the grand scheme of things, that's far from the worst kind of indoctrination.

Here, from Wikipedia, is more than you ever wanted to know about Tony:

"Tony began to be humanized in the 1970s; he was given an Italian-American nationality and consumers were briefly introduced to more of Tony's family including Mama Tony, Mrs. Tony, and a daughter, Antoinette. Tony was a popular figure among the young Italian-American population and it showed in 1974, where he was deemed 'Tiger of the Year' in an advertising theme taken from the Chinese Lunar Calendar. ... Later that year, Tony graced the covers of Italian GQ and Panorama. ... In addition to Tony's success, during this decade, son Tony Jr. was even given his own short-lived cereal in 1975, Frosted Rice. [Martin] Provensen's original art design for the tiger has changed significantly over the years, as Tony the whimsical, cereal-box-sized tiger with a teardrop-shaped head was replaced by his fully-grown son Jr., who is now a sleek, muscular sports enthusiast."

Getting back to the postcard, the illustration is gorgeous and, of course, I'm a sucker for the cute skunk, given that I'm currently looking after them nightly here at Montebello Manor. They're such cute critters! 

Related posts

• Guide to American summer camps from 102 years ago
• Mom's postcard from camp: "Please come and get me"
• Plot thickens in Mom's attempts to escape summer camp
• The best thing to do at summer camp
• Postcards to send home from summer camp
• Light & shadow & Lochearn

Snippets from the April 24-30, 1971, edition of TV Guide

Let's peer inside this defaced, 54-year-old issue of TV Guide for April 24-30, 1971. Specifically this is the Chicago Metropolitan Edition. This is all the stuff that was on TV when I was just 4 months old. Under editor Merrill Panitt, it features articles and reviews by Neil Hickey, Cleveland Amory, E. Joseph Bennett, Dick Hobson, Richard K. Doan, Judith Crist and Bill Davidson, among others. 

In a biography of Walter Annenberg, the website Immigrant Entrepreneurship states: "(TV Guide) Editor Merrill Panitt and (publisher) Walter Annenberg fully understood that television had to appeal to a wide audience in order to be profitable, but they also pressured television networks to raise the quality of programming. For that matter, TV Guide encouraged networks to end the practice of single sponsorship for programs, because giving networks the final say over scripts might improve quality. ... Walter and Merrill Panitt encouraged readers to tune into symphonies, ballets, and public broadcasting. In 1961, they used their platform to petition the Federal Communications Commission (FCC) to enforce the stipulation that stations air programs 'in the public interest' in order to renew their licenses."

1. Up first is a page from the day-by-day TV Movie Guide. This is what was available to watch. It was still about a half-decade before VCRs began to trickle into American homes and before cable services such as HBO began to be available. So unless you had an 8mm film projector, this represented what you could watch at home, in the Chicago area. It wasn't an awful selection, though! You could start your Saturday with a Blondie movie, watch the Val Lewton-produced western Apache Drums, be thrilled by Hammer's The Curse of the Mummy's Tomb and fall asleep to Laird Cregar in The Lodger. Or maybe something else on Saturday's list strikes your fancy.

2. "Hot Dog" was an NBC documentary series for kids that was hosted by Jo Anne Worley, Jonathan Winters and Woody Allen (!) but ran for just one season. Those few who watched and remembered it seemed to love it. One reviewer on IMDb wrote in 2006: "'Hot Dog' was unlike all the other kids' fare on Saturday. No animation at all. The cast were asked to explain things like 'How do they get toothpaste in the tube?' Woody Allen and Jonathan Winters of course came up with bizarre answers. Then we'd see how it's really done -- a filmed piece set to music, no narration, would take us through the process start to finish. The show was fun, interesting, original and different. Wish I could see it again."

3. The Sunday morning religious shows included "Mass for Shut-Ins." The history of the broadcast is discussed in an article on the website of the Historical Society of Quincy & Adams County. It notes: "The origin of the popular religious program began with casual conversation during a meeting of the Knights of Columbus Fourth Degree in September 1962. Father George McDivott, a Franciscan priest at Quincy College, suggested that the Knights of Columbus Fourth Degree sponsor a televised Mass for nursing home residents, the homebound and others unable to attend weekly services in their churches. ... WGEM-TV, the NBC station in Quincy, agreed to record the Mass at its studio at 7:30 p.m. Saturdays and televise it the following Sunday mornings. The Knights took on the responsibility of designing and building the set. (Bert) Wensing built the altar, and donations provided the crucifix hung behind the altar, along with linens, candles, cruets, hosts and wine the Mass required."

4. This episode of the news show "Cromie Circle" featured some compelling topics, back when news shows were much more intellectual, education and quiet than they are today. According to the website "History? Because It's Here!" Robert Cromie did it all at the Chicago Tribune, handling World War II coverage, sportswriting and book reviews. "WGN television broadcast 'Cromie’s Circle' from 1969 to 1980 and WTTW television broadcast 'Cromie’s Book Beat' nationwide from 1964 to 1980. As a reporter, he was enchanted with people and their life stories and he despised injustices and revealed them through vivid newspaper stories," the website notes.

5. Here's part of an interesting full-page advertisement urging people to invest in full-acre parcels in Meadview, Arizona. "People are moving into Arizona to escape congestion, strife and bad weather," the advertising copy notes. "The U.S. Census Bureau predicts Arizona's population growth at twice the national average in the coming decades." Indeed, Arizona's population was 1.7 million in 1970 and is about 7.6 million today. Meadview didn't quite fulfill its promise, though. About 1,400 people live there today and it's an unincorporated community with limited local infrastructure.

6. Want spooky movies? Here are some TV Guide ads for spooky movies. Strait-Jacket is a William Castle film written by Robert Bloch and featuring Joan Crawford at her Mommie Dearest scariest. The College Girl Murders (1967) is the U.S. release of the West German thriller The Monk with the Whip, one of many Edgar Wallace adaptations. Screaming Yellow Theater was hosted by the famous Svengoolie.

7. Speaking of spooky, the 1970s pretty much belonged to Vincent Price. In addition to his Hollywood movies, he was everywhere else, too: guest appearances on TV shows, talk shows, game shows, commercials, voiceovers and more. Here are a couple items from this issue of TV Guide:

8. Finally, I thought this was an interesting excerpt from an article by Richard K. Doan about the "happy talk" approach (sort of) taken by WABC Channel 7's evening news broadcast in New York City. Whether that was a good development in the long run for TV news is up for others to decide. I suspect it had a mixture of positive and negative consequences, though. We could probably use a bit more good cheer and positivity these days, so long as it's grounded in truth, and not misinformation or gaslighting.